Bravery by any other name
by LeonisRest
Summary: There's an itch under Severus' skin - one that doesn't go away no matter what. He loves dresses and skirts, but still know it's wrong - up until a fiery girl shows him that it doesn't matter. OR Severus is a transgirl and everything in canon is changed, and everyone is supportive.
1. Bravery is just a thread's width away

This work is still in progress, but I loved it too much to keep it to myself.

Please comment and leave kudos if you can!

Title of chapters by this awesome poem I found on pinterest; didn't manage to find the source despite scouring everywhere so if you know who did it, please let me know!

You stand up tall, to every strike  
That is courage, hidden in your dread.  
Even when you say you had enough,  
There is courage in every tear you shed.  
By a dim-lit corner, you cower alone.  
Their mere presence triggers cold sweat.  
Bullies are weak, cowards in disguise.  
Ignore them, wear a smile instead,  
Fear is real if you let it cripple you,  
For once listen to what it has to say,  
« Escape ain't your sole option,  
Bravery is just a thread's width away. »  
 **Aw'waad**

 _\- Work beta-read by Twitter_hikari._

* * *

There was an itch under Severus' skin.

Most day he could ignore it – it wasn't _bad_ per say, but still it tingled at the back of his mind. It got worse though.

He started to shop with his mother and saw the pretty dresses on the rack, was steered away from them by his fearful mother. People told him how he would be "handsome like his father" when all he wanted was to be as striking as his mother. He made a friend and couldn't help but be jealous over the really pretty clothes she was allowed to wear; always tidy skirts and dresses, and pretty ribbons in her hair.

She had fire in her hair and green eyes as pretty as the jewelry Severus' mother hid in the closet.

But she was his first friend, and when Lily told him she had noticed him eyeing his dresses and if he wanted, he was welcome to try it, Severus was almost glad but —  
…but what if his father learned of it? The itch got worse at that thought.

But pretty, fiery, _fierce_ Lily seemed to understand his reluctance and just put a finger on her mouth before saying: "We can always go to my house. Even if they don't agree, my parents won't say anything to yours."

Severus couldn't help the smile on his lips when following Lily back to her home.

* * *

Severus twirled, admiring himself in the mirror of Lily's parents' bedroom. He was wearing one of the skirt he had so admired on Lily, and a shirt that probably belonged to Petunia — though scrawny, Severus was still a fair few centimeters above Lily, and all her shirts fell awkwardly on him.

Next to him, sat on the floor, Lily clapped her hands happily and beamed at him when he turned around to face her. "You should keep it, it looks really good on you!"

And Severus could only shake his head while thumbing the pretty skirt.

"Father won't like it and… and you know how he gets. Not to mention Mother will hate it too. They don't like freaks, I told you."

And Lily only shook her head.

"You're not a freak Sev', you're a pretty princess. It's a shame your parents can't see it yet."

The pretty black skirt, with a bit of decorations on the hem, felt _good_ on him, felt right. And for once, the itch he always had somewhere in the back of his mind was finally finally calm.

* * *

One of the reasons Lily thought Petunia was so jealous of Severus was because he made a prettier girl than either of them.

And Lily wasn't even _lying_. Her mom said so, and she wouldn't lie, not to her and Severus and Petunia.

Mom was happy to have a third girl at home, even if he had to change before going back to his home. For now though, she encouraged all of them to still call him his birth name and pronouns — for she feared Tobias' reaction to an innocent or (as Petunia was won't do) not so innocent slip of the tongue.

Still though, she thought while trying to put mascara on Sev's face, she really hoped her friend would be able to be himself soon. She worried for him when things got heated at home. It only increased when he came back with a heavy bruise on his jaw.

* * *

"Mom?"

Eileen Prince-Snape only hummed in answer, absorbed in her stitching. While she wasn't the best at it, her stitching was efficient and durable which, she thought, was really what stitching was about.  
Eileen was never really good at creating pretty things. Except her son. She would always be grateful for him; he was the light in her otherwise rather bleak life.

"You said Father chose my name…"

Eileen looked over to her son. He looked like his father when he had a puzzle turning in his head. She put down her work and motioned for him to come over before hugging him and putting his head on her thigh.

"Yes, your father did indeed chose your name. He wanted a good and well-bred name for you, fitting for a young Prince," She teased while tickling his nose.

Her too wise boy wrinkled his brow before smiling at her.

"What would _you_ have named me?"

Eileen paused a moment, taking a deep breathe.  
It had been so many years since she thought of her family, all dead or dispersed, with none left to care about the two of them stranded in the Muggle world without a Galleon to their name.

"I… do not know, dearest Prince. My own grandparents were Ukrainian, and I might have named you for one of my numerous cousins."

"Your grandparents were Ukrainian? Do you speak it?"

"A bit, just enough to sing you lullabies when you were younger. But your father has forbidden me to teach you it"

"…Do you want to speak about your cousin, mom?"

And Eileen Prince-Snape smiled at her son and told him tales of her numerous cousins; Zlatan who was too shy to do much, but always willing to jump in the river with her; Ruslana the brave who dreamed of being a knight and a princess; Aleks who drew as if he could breathe life into his creation-

At her knee Severus only smiled, his eyes closed, and repeating the names under his breath.

* * *

" _Ruuuuus!"_

Severus could hear the distant call of Lily, but she didn't want to move from his spot under the tree, not while she was examining his latest tentative to find a name.

She didn't want to hope too much yet, but she doesn't feel like _Severus_ lately. Which is why she asked Lily to change his nickname: Rus sounds more feminine to her ears, more herself.  
On the matter of pronouns it's still a forbidden little joy to call herself a 'her'. She doesn't dare to do it often, especially not at home, but in this little refuge she and Lily had built? Everything was allowed, especially being herself.

"Sooo, what _are_ you doing?"

Rus jumped a fair few centimeters in the air, letting out a shriek of surprise as Lily appeared suddenly behind her. The redhead took advantage of Rus' surprise and stole the notebook she was writing in it, only to wrinkle her nose at it. "What are these Rus? They look like names…"

She nodded shyly at her friend. "Yes, Mother told me about her cousins and how she wanted to name me after them and I… I've been trying to find a good name for me."

Lily sat next to her and pointed to one of the names - one that had been discarded at the very beginning because Rus certainly wasn't _brave_ , not like the Ruslana of her mother's tale. When she told Lily that, Lily grew back her head and laughed.

"Really Rus? You're the bravest person I've ever known. The most beautiful and so brave and yet you still doubt yourself. It would be a nice reminder that you are worth more than you imagine."

And as Rus traced the letters, drawn by her childish hand, she tried to sound it in her head, just like her mother had pronounced it.

 _Ruslana._

* * *

"RUS!"

Elbows deep in the sink, Ruslana frowned before shouting back at her friend.

"In the kitchen Lils! I'm trying to do the dishes!"

A breathless Lily appeared in the doorframe, waving a piece of paper in her hand.

"My letter came! They sent someone to explain to me, and they told me we're going to go shopping! Do you want to come with your mother Rus?"

Ruslana didn't grimace, but it was a close thing. This month was a bit tight, what with Father having lost his job at the mine and an unusual lack of little jobs for her mother to take. And while Eileen was without a doubt ecstatic to see her child receive a letter, there was simply no money this month. And probably not much the next.

By this point, Rus was fairly certain she wouldn't get to see Hogwarts.

Lily understood what Rus wasn't saying and she just said: "It'll be fine. You see, mom told me she didn't give you your birthday gift that year, right?"

Rus had to frown a little to think back — but not much. The apparent oversight of her birthday by the usually very cheerful lady Evans who did not miss an opportunity to spoil Rus and her daughters had been a deep wound that Rus had done her best to forget.

"Yes… Yes I remember. What do you-"

Lily just interrupted her blissfully: "Well mom saved for your year at a boarding school — that's what your mom told her and now that she knows about magic she said she'd pay for you!"

Ruslana let the plate drop in the sink before putting wet and soapy hands on Lily's shoulder and started to babble how she couldn't let Rose do that, please tell your mom _it's too much Lily, I can't accept really_ … only for Lily to laugh at her and telling her that it was a done deal and that she only needed her letter, shoes and coat.

And despite wanting to shout that she didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve any of the kindness the Evans gave her, Ruslana dried her eyes — _when did she start crying?_ — and went to get her things.

After all, the best way to thanks someone wasn't to tell them she didn't deserve their gift but properly appreciate it, as Rose Evans always said.

And Ruslana thought Rose Evans a very wise woman.

* * *

Rus was staring at Petunia, glaring daggers at the blonde girl.  
She would gladly admit that Petunia was a brat. The worst brat even.

Rus had tried to be accommodating on the journey to Diagon Alley — after all, as a muggle, Petunia was really out of place and knowing how badly she felt among muggles, Rus thought Petunia would welcome the help.

Only to get sneered at and her hand slapped because Petunia "didn't need the help of a _freak queer_ , thank you very much".  
Well then. War begets war, and in a battle of snide remarks and subtle digs, Rus was clearly a cut above the horse-faced Petunia.

Lily did not look into either their direction, as she had already started to brawl with Petunia and Rose had warned the girls that another physical attack would see all three of them back home while she would do all the shopping by herself.

That said… nothing was ever said about making Petunia trip mused Rus to herself while using an accidental-almost slip of magic to braid Petunia's shoelaces together.

The squeak and subsequent scolding was completely worth the highly suspicious gaze Rose shot her.

* * *

Flourish and Botts was _awesome_ and Rus only regret was that she couldn't get more books. Everything looked so interesting! Mother had only taught her the names of plants and potions, often disguised in a lullaby.

But here spells and books for every occasion appeared and Ruslana was honestly _this_ close to give herself a five fingers discount, but wouldn't on the account that Rose didn't deserve to have one of her crime pinned on her.

Still.

Her fingers itched once they were done with the school list — Rose telling them both that there was a library at Hogwarts (she had asked, knowing her girls perfectly well) and that they did not have need of anything but their coursebooks.  
The hungry gaze of Petunia that Rus could see made her a bit uncomfortable though. Just as well that the blonde girl kept to the other end of the group.

Rose read the list aloud trying to figure their next stop before their guide interrupted them. Silent until then, the quiet slip of a man told them that Madam Malkin's, robes for all occasions was the one who had the only right to sell Hogwarts uniform, and as such that should be their next stop as they already had trunks and books.

However, Ruslana didn't expect to almost die of mortification upon entering the shop. Up until then, everyone in the group had used the masculine set of pronouns and name for her — it was safest, and even Petunia had bowed to Rose in that matter.

Being accosted by a plump woman who had a no-nonsense look on her and who started calling her "Miss" was a surprise that made Rus go bright red. Their guide started to stammer apologies for having apparently misgendered her and Rus couldn't help the second wave of embarrassment she got.

"I'm… I mean that's— I've been in the Muggle world you know and it's… it's not really…" and then she shot a desperate look at Rose, who aptly took over the conversation.  
After a minute or so of explanation, Madam Malkin patted Rus' cheeks and simply asked her whether she wanted the boy's or girl's uniform? Also she should tell her if she had any particular allergies, as there were other materials available.

Rus was so happy she couldn't— couldn't even believe it. And yet, just like the Evans' had accepted her as she was (more or less in the case of Petunia), the wizarding world did not care one wit whether she was a girl or a boy.

It felt truly good.

* * *

And yet, just like all good things, it couldn't last.

Not that it was any fault to any of the Evans family that went with her today, Ruslana acknowledged. Or maybe a bit Petunia's.

Okay no, it was totally Petunia's fault.

But for all her jealousy and pettiness, Rus couldn't really blame the girl — for she understands what it feels to be overlooked, and mocked when you aren't.  
And she understands better than most the deep sting when someone you thought _yours_ would take another's company.

Though her father now preferred whiskey and beer, it had not been the case when Rus was younger, and she could yet remember the golden days of Before when her father brushed her hair and played with her and taught her how to twist woods in pretty sculpture.

And since she knew how it felt to be relegated to second best, to never be given a kind word unless pushed to do it, Rus doesn't blame the girl.

But she is too much of a twisted and greedy creature to let her fire-haired friend go.

Which meant, that when at last, Petunia starts to show how much she despises the two of them, Ruslana can't be surprised. She _could_ act like she is — her mother was a Slytherin and Rus learned at her knees how to twist words and place masks upon her face; but ultimately, she doesn't.

What surprises her, however, is how Petunia finally choose to act.

* * *

Rus had to admire the precision of the strike, Petunia was indeed a Slytherin if she ever saw one, if one that didn't have her skills as honed as she did… But a snake didn't need training for some things and hurting others in one swift and destructive movement was certainly one of those things that didn't need any training.

She waited until all of them were back home — Spinner's end home, not the lovely Evans' house in the upper streets. And then, as Rose Evans and Lily and Rus were talking to a flustered but happy Eileen, she stroke true, waiting for Tobias to be near.

"Sooo mom, when are you gonna tell the Snape's that Severus dresses as a girl? I mean, he will even go to that _freak_ school as a 'she'!"

Shocked and fearful, the black-haired girl still took a few seconds to admire the sheer balls of steel of Petunia, and the cunning in saying it at that moment.

But to the surprise of everyone, and probably Tobias included, he only grunted before asking Rus if she needed any new clothes, and if yes, to take it up with her mother since Tobias had managed to get a bit of money back.

Ruslana only managed to stammer a bit before Tobias went to the shed in the backyard, leaving behind a fuming Rose Evans who was glaring and promising a furious scolding to Petunia, a shocked Lily and a happy Eileen who just squealed and promptly hugged the stuffing out of Ruslana.

(the fact that she only let her go to inquire whether she wanted to change her name was telling)

(the tears that Rus felt in her hair upon telling her _true_ name to her mother were even more telling)

(nobody said anything about the two Snape women having suspect red eyes after getting out of the last hug)

* * *

"Uh… Father? You… You haven't said anything since… I thought you'd… well…"

The softly spoken words made Tobias look up from his woodcarving, to look at the child he had gotten from the Fey woman he married.  
He simply shrugged at his… well daughter, now… before tapping the chair next to him in an invitation.

She went to it, a bit like a scared cat would, eyes bright and suspicious.

He waited for her to be seated and gave himself a bit of time to get his thoughts together.

"You know, I always knew there was something strange about your mother. I never imagined that I'd marry a Fair One, and gave her a child, but here you are."

The girl looked startled and really, how could he not see earlier what she was? For as much as she had his nose and hair, she had the soulful deep ( _unnatural_ murmured a part of his brain) eyes of her mother.

Eyes that were a direct window to her soul as is.

Tobias shrugged a bit and went to get the wood shave of his knee before continuing.

"I always figured you'd be a bit weird — you turning out to be a girl isn't the most surprising thing really. Changelings are always like that, queer and out of the time, but I…" and then he sighed. "I hope you can manage to grow up as both a human and a Fae. You're my daughter after all."

He didn't expect the armful of a sobbing daughter, crying in relief, but he figured it was a step in the right direction.

(back to them)

(this time, it hadn't been the Underhill folks keeping him from home and family — it had been himself and it wouldn't happen ever again he swore).

* * *

"I won't say sorry. No need to come and bother me."

Rus had expected a lot of things when she tried to talk to Petunia. The defeated and depressed tone of voice, combined with a Petunia burrowed in her covers, wasn't something she expected.

"I'm not. I mean, I don't expect you to say sorry. You don't regret what you've done, only the consequences. I know, I'm the same."

The book at her head that Petunia just throwed was more in-line with what she expected.

"No, you DON'T! You and Lily are _always_ together, and I'm always left to follow behind! And this time-" and there her voice broke. "This time _I can't follow my baby sister_."

Oh. So that's what it was about.

But Petunia wasn't over with her rant.

"And it's _not fair_ that you get to be both boy and girl and be _pretty_ at both and _handsome_ and I'm still stuck with a horse-face and awful neck, and stick body and just— It's _unfair_!"

And at the end of it, Petunia just fell down and started crying in earnest.

But one of the thing she said stuck in Ruslana's ears. She kneeled next to Petunia and started to hug her.

"You know, I'm _not_ both. I'm a girl, I always was. The problem was the world was convinced of the contrary and I tried to fit as a boy as best as I could… but I never _was_ a boy. And you don't feel like a girl either, am I right?"

The dresses with more taffetas and laces than a noble lady, the make-up overdone but still applied with care every morning without fail, the heeled shoes and the dance lessons… suddenly it fit with what she just saw of Petunia. She never really understood that the glances she took as jealousy about the friendship between her and Lily was a jealousy at _Rus_ going from boy to girl seamlessly to Petunia.

The shy nod she felt in her shoulder only confirmed what she thought.

Well then.

"You know what? With what happened, I've got tons of boy's clothes to get rid of. They're a bit too big for me, but they're gonna be just right for you. You'd look so great in them 'Nia. Would you like that?"

"…yes please, Rus."


	2. That is courage, hidden in your dread

Hello everyone! Thanks for the interest you put in this fic, and sorry for the delay. I hit writer's block and was unable to write the next chapter, which since this site gets updated a chapter behind meant a delay for you also.

Anyway I hope you'll like this new chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter 2: That is courage, hidden in your dread**

* * *

One of the foremost memories Sirius carries is remembering lying in bed, with Regulus and them both crying.

He doesn't remember what it was about. Perhaps about the brothers meeting a muggle children in the park nearby and getting hit for it while at home. Maybe because Sirius rebelled at learning manners and courtesies that _didn't make any sense_. Maybe because Reg went into their mother's wardrobe and got punished for wearing her dresses.

Maybe all three happened; all Sirius can remember is clutching his sibling close and crying his heart out in Reg's hair while his brother made Sirius' shirt properly soaked with his own tears.

And even now, even after their parents forbid them to sleep in the same bed — (and Sirius can remember the hissed words of " _Unnatural_ " that Mother hardly tried to hide,) Reg still finds his way into his bed. He leaves well before morning comes, but they both take comfort in hugging each other during the darkest hours of the day.

* * *

Contrary to what Mother expected, Reg didn't grow to be handsome, he grew to be _pretty_. Sirius was handsome, the same way his father was, but gracious Reg looked more like Narcissa and Andromeda than any of their parents.

(it made Mother _so mad_ when Arcturus told her that.)

But Sirius was grown enough to understand what was happening: in Wizarding society, you had to correspond to a gender. Whether be it man, woman or nothing or both, you had to have one. And whether your body corresponded or not to your magical core and gender mattered very little, as a body could be modified to be in harmony with both.

That's what the Traditionalists like Grandfather Arcturus, Great aunt Cassiopeia and Uncle Pollux believed.

On the other hand, the New Traditionalists, like Mother and Father, who supported the Dark Lord, believed that magic made you a gender and that _you_ had to adapt to your gender; a view that was suspiciously close to what the religious muggleborn party believed, but nobody had yet to point it out. (Pollux didn't care much for the views of the new Dark Lord on genders)

And the family was in a right snit about those two views opposing each other.

Particularly because Lord Black — Grandfather Arcturus — was of the Traditionalists, and because his chosen heir was of the New Traditionalist.  
And that the subsequent heirs (Sirius and Regulus) were far too young to have established an opinion one way or another. The fact that both of them were under the thumb of parents who wouldn't allow them to express themselves was a minor concern.

So up until the time where Sirius could go to Hogwarts — and be recognized as the rightful heir in place of his father, the tension continued to mount. And Sirius was left trying to protect himself and his brother from adults that would only use them for their own ends; not even Grandfather Arcturus who said he wanted only the best for the two of them thought a second about what would happen to Sirius and Reg if he riled their parents a time too much.

Nobody ever thought about the consequences of their actions on others, that was a lesson Sirius bitterly learned.

* * *

At nine years old, Sirius was no longer sure he was _Sirius_.

For all his bluster and his pride at being called handsome, he longed to be able to wear what he damn well wanted to. He was also very curious about Mother's makeup and brush. He wanted to wear his hair long, but he didn't have a _good_ excuse for it. Until Reg came to him one night, beaming, with a book that was almost as tall as him.

"You know what?" the excited kid asked him.

"What?"

"In the old times, lords and heirs used to have their hair long! I found out after asking Kreacher for history books… and I thought. Well maybe Father will allow us to grow our hair? Since we're all heirs to Lord Black."

Sirius made a thoughtful hum before messing Reg's bangs with a smile.

"Siriiiiii…!", whined the smallest Black before laying down next to Sirius, and falling asleep in the next two breathes.

The eldest just shook his head, smiling fondly at Reg's ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime without pause.  
Though his brother had a point. The argument might work on their parents; after all they were Traditionalists, New as they may be and the re-starting of an old tradition would be exactly what they would be proud to do.

Sirius' eyes gleamed as he examined his brother's book and started to read to find references and sources on that point. He would wear his hair as long as Rapunzel if it let his brother be happy with himself. (and the fact that it would appease a part of him that _hungered_ for something more made him only more determined.)

* * *

The two brothers had a new nightly ritual, now that their father accepted to let them grow their hair.

They would brush each other's hair and do a single braid to avoid tangled hair in the morning — the Black hair was not as wild as the Potter hair, but metamorphomagus magic in the bloodline made their hair by turns too curly or too straight and an inability to _stay untangled_.

Now Sirius understood better the profanities Cousin Narcissa said whenever her mother was brushing her hair — tangled hair _hurt_ and Aunt Druella was not the most gentle person in the world.  
In fact, Sirius wouldn't put it past her to tear on her daughter's hair just to teach her to stop forgetting putting her hair in a plait.

Traditionalist settings also meant that cousins Andromeda and Narcissa were never free to wear their hair free, as that was seen as uh… how did Mother put it again? Oh right. Being a person of Loose and Questionable Morals, and as they were ladies, they had to wear their hair up.

Reg still teared up whenever Mother reminded him that he was only allowed to wear his hair long because there wasn't a definite line of inheritance yet.  
Sirius happily called her a heinous harpy in his head, as he absolutely abhorred the giddy look her mother had on her face every time she talked about "Cutting off that nonsense" with a wild gesture to Reg's hair.

Sirius would happily renounce to the heirship if it let Reg be happy — but as he didn't have his Hogwarts letter, he wasn't officially an heir and couldn't renounce it as it wasn't _his_ to renounce.

Back on his track of thought, Sirius mused, what made his mother even _angrier_ was the fact that Cousin Bellatrix, who regularly moved between genders as one would between doors, was allowed to do as they pleased.  
Including wearing their hair short — that was a year ago and Sirius still laughed at remembering Mother's look when seeing Cousin Bellatrix at that dinner — but also completely unrestrained, which led to Mother banning both Cousin Bellatrix and Uncle Pollux until he "managed to get his daughter back under control", never mind that Cousin Bellatrix preferred _child_ and not _daughter_.

Sirius was sad to not see Cousin Bellatrix, but Cousin Narcissa and Cousin Andromeda were both more than happy to come and visit them and teach Reg how to dress and paint his face.

They had taken to scouring the library to find new names for Reg. Sirius took the blame for that, telling their parents that he was actually searching for names for his future children, and that he brought both Reg and his cousins because more than one opinion was always better.

His mother didn't really buy it, but Father did, and Sirius managed to keep quiet for a while yet.

Reg was giddy, and refused to tell what he and the cousins had discussed — no matter what bribes Sirius had prepared.  
(Though Reg was sneaky enough to take the bribe before refusing — if Sirius had any thought his sibling wouldn't get in Slytherin, they would have went up in smoke at that.)

He caught him writing letters to Great Aunt Cassiopeia, but Sirius left him at it: if Auntie Cass caught him at badgering his brother over a letter (and she _would_ know), Sirius' ears would take another ringing scolding and he was in no hurry to have it again.

Even though putting frogs in the pie with Uncle Ignatius _was_ pretty funny.

* * *

The letter from Great Aunt Cass came one morning, a few weeks before June and the end of the school year — not that Sirius was particularly concerned _yet_ but the letters would be sent at the first of July for him and the tension was particularly high. And already Sirius was feeling nervous.

He _knew_ he was magical, he had enough magical accidents to prove it — which his parents treated both as the greatest gift he could have given them and as something that had to be hidden and never mentioned.

Nonetheless, Reg receiving a letter from Great Aunt Cass was cause of great agitation that morning, up until when Mother tried to take the letter from the owl and got summarily savaged by it.  
Sirius had to keep the nervous giggles inside for fear of his parents to turn to him for answers, answers he could not and _would not_ give.

Mother went screeching to the floo and to Saint-Mungo's with Father in tow, while the both of them were left to blink at each other and Kreacher.

Sirius only had to meet Reg's eyes before they started howling with laughter at what just happened. Oh, Sirius was sure they would pay for it, but until then, Reg could read his letter in peace and write an answer before Mother and Father came home.

He said as much to his brother, and Reg gave him a beaming smile before disappearing inside — they both knew Kreacher adored Reg, but if given a strict order by Mother, Kreacher _would have_ to answer. And so, in order to keep the peace and spare each other the worst hurt, they would not tell the other one what happened or confidential things for fear of their parents interrogating the other.

Since Father gave Veritaserum once to Reg, Sirius felt he had every rights to be wary of them.

* * *

Even with the way Sirius' backside hurt, he couldn't regret taking the blame for his brother's correspondence and the way Great Aunt Cass's owl attacked Mother.

He had _never_ seen Reg this happy. He was literally beaming with joy, or humming things under his breath or drawing magnificent gowns on his sketchpad, or just simply staring at the window with a smile. He would take _all_ the beatings in the world if it kept Reg happy.

Reg had refused to tell him what Great Aunt Cass said though — and Sirius couldn't help but be hurt by it. He _knew_ why, he even taught his brother that some things had to be kept quiet so their parents wouldn't use it against each other, but he still couldn't help the irrational feeling of hurt at his brother's secrecy.

Especially since apparently both Cousin Narcissa and Andromeda were in on the secret.

The stranglehold managed to explode with a regularity that even bothered Father. Because Sirius' favorite target when he was feeling too much emotion to express them quietly was to shout at Mother who gave as good as she got.

…Sometimes even better than she got, Sirius thought regretfully as he tried to find a comfortable position in the sitting room.

Father had asked him to come there, and Sirius was fearing to get another dressing down from Father… or worse.

But Sirius didn't have to wait longer, as Father strode in the room, looking aggravated and fuming slightly.  
Sirius tried to disappear in the couch, but winced uncomfortably when one of his bruises got pressure on it.

Father only took a look at his heir before shaking his head.

"Sirius."

"Yes Father?"

"Stop taunting your mother boy. It's not an attitude fit for a Heir of House Black, and not an attitude fit for my son. If you don't obey your mother and stop your incessant temper tantrums, there _will_ be consequences. Am I clear?"

Sirius looked at his feet and nodded, before jumping when Father cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Yes Father. I hear and obey."

Father nodded decisively at Sirius, before staring into the fireplace.

"Your Grandfather Lord Black has asked that you and Regulus come to Manoir Black after your letter comes — as you will be the Heir to House Black and Regulus your own heir."

Sirius startled and let out a yelp before clamping back on his composure.

"Father?"

Orion Black turned back to his son, his glare more menacing than ever.

"You _will_ comport yourself as fit a Heir of House Black. You will obey every order of Lord Black as if it were my own — and so help me if you don't, as you will **not** like the consequences of that particular disobedience."

Sirius nodded and gulped, fear fighting hope in his chest.  
He would be free of his parents? For a full summer? And Reg would be here too?

Even the promise of a most severe beating couldn't stop him from smiling.

 _Free_.

* * *

It was only a fortnight later when both Sirius and Regulus were Flooed to their Grandparents' manor, the Lord and Lady Black apparently having confirmed that they would take Sirius shopping.

As it was Traditional to have a Lord of House accompanying their heir to Hogwarts (and that included the shopping too), Father and Mother had not much of a leg to stand on for protesting it.  
Sirius was just glad he wouldn't have to suffer through a full day in Diagon Alley with Mother critiquing every witch and wizard they met, and with Father nitpicking over every Galleon they had to pay.

Sirius didn't know what he expected of Manoir Black, but being swept into a tight hug by Grandmother Melania — " _please call me Grandma dearest_ " and put upon Grandfather Arcturus' shoulders like a sack of potatoes was _not_ _it_. Not that he didn't appreciate. But he, more than anyone else, always wondered at the hidden benefits of any actions, and he _couldn't_ really see where his grandparents were going with that attitude.

Reg however took to it like a fish to water, reveling in Grandma's attentions like a flower under the sun. They both took to hide for _hours_ in the Music room, which left Sirius with Grandfather who started to teach him how to rule a house and to take care of its finances.

Sirius was really jealous of Grandma being always with Reg. Up until now, Sirius and Reg were inseparable, not even their parents could put a barrier between them, and yet within a few days of being in Manoir Black, Reg would happily abandon him for _hours_ and didn't even inquire of what Sirius had been doing.

Sirius only gritted his teeth and performed as much as the perfect Black Heir he could, never giving Grandfather or Grandma cause to complain to his parents.

He gritted his teeth too through the visit at Diagon, where they left Reg at home with Uncle Pollux and Cousins Narcissa, Andromeda and Bellatrix (who was authorized to visit Manoir Black and therefore invited to the family reunion). When he was given a wand with a dragon core — " _One for impulsive and courageous minds"_ had murmured Ollivanders when he fitted him.

He gritted his teeth when Grandma would praise Reg's skills with the harp and piano, and the way he would sing, when she would praise his great sense of aesthetics in designing jewellry and clothes.

He gritted his teeth when Grandma inquired sweetly — _too sweetly, fake fake fake!_ said a part of his mind — after his studies. Gritted his teeth through the many praises Grandfather gave him, of his quick mind at his studies.

He knew his strengths: studying was not one of them. How could he study when he had to be aware of any words he had to say? Of when his Father or Mother would duck inside the study in the hope of catching him cheating or whatever ideas they had at the moment? He couldn't study, and yet Lord Black was here, praising the skills Sirius _knew_ he didn't possess.

That left him a bitter taste in the mouth.

But finally, finally the day to leave for Hogwarts came. Even though Reg would be forced to go back to their parent's house at Grimmauld place, Sirius couldn't help but be relieved.  
At least he knew what his parents were capable of. He didn't trust one bit his grandparents.

 _No one can be that kind. No one_.

* * *

Being on the Hogwarts Express was a relief, even though it tore something inside Sirius to leave his little brother on the platform, tears trailing down both their faces while Grandma and Grandfather waved regally at him.

He was glad to see the back of them though. Not so much at leaving his brother but he hoped it would get better with time. It _had_ to.  
(Sirius wouldn't survive the year at Hogwarts if it didn't.)

He heard a slight knock on the wagon door, and tried to dry his tears as fast as possible. Mother had warned him about what happened to a Slytherin if someone saw a sign of weakness and he had no wish to pay for a small weakness just a few minutes in the year.

He saw a small slip of a girl, bright red hair around her face (and left loose! What would Mother think?) take a look inside and give him a bright smile.

"Hi! We were looking for a compartment. You're waiting for someone or can we…?", she said as she gestured slightly at the empty seats.

"Uh… Yes, of course. But… we?"

The red haired little girl only smiled widely at him before opening the door and bring another girl with her. That one was dark haired, with a slightly crooked nose and two wide doe-eyes.

"Yes, us! My name's Lily Evans, and she's Ruslana Snape. What's your name? We're first year at Hogwarts. You too? Also I really like your hair, what do you do to it?"

Sirius only blinked in answer at the rapid-fire sentences.  
Ruslana noticed his bewildered look and smiled at him before tugging slightly on Lily's hand.

"Give him time to answer, Lils. He's not used to having to answer three questions in less than a second."

Lily pouted visibly at her friends before turning back on Sirius with a beaming smile.

"So?"

And despite the fact that Sirius would have preferred _not_ to trust those two, they reminded him too much of Reg, of his beaming smile and secretive moods, of his black hair, as wild as Lily, and of his serious eyes that looked too much like Ruslana's.

"My name is Sirius Black, and I'm also a first year. I don't do much to my hair, but I let my brother brush it."

Lily beamed at him and started talking about her own brother, Juniper, who was a kind boy who knew how to brush Lily hair so it fell just _right_ and who was as excited as Lily to learn of the Magical World.

And Sirius only smiled at them, listening intently at those words.

Father and Mother didn't matter, here Sirius was _free_.


	3. You stand up tall to every strike

The anxious murmuring from around Rus made her squirm with anxiety. Pretty and fiery Lily already went to Gryffindor, not that there was any doubt on it but still… and Rus was still there, waiting for her name to be called out.

Though, it was a real victory to have her mother owl the headmaster for a change of her name on the roll call — she will be called as Ruslana Snape, not Severus Snape from there on, and the thought made her giddy with joy.

"Snape, Ruslana!" called out a severe looking witch, who introduced herself earlier as Professor McGonagall (and never before had Rus aspired to be such a witch someday).

Rus went to the Sorting Hat, stumbling a bit before sitting and having her vision obscured by the … smelly… hat.

 _"I'll have you know, Miss Snape, that I smell perfectly fine for a Hat that spent a few centuries on children's hair without getting washed even once."_

She let out a small squeak at that.

"I'm sorry", Rus mumbled to the hat as an apology.

There was a chuckle in her ear, and she could feel the hat moving around her head.

" _No matter, no matter. Now, where to sort you?"_

She could _ask_ the Hat about her sorting? Mother never said anything about that.

" _No I dare say she did not — Eileen Prince was a snake that much was clear. But you have cunning and bravery in spades, and while Hufflepuff might be a good fit for you, you are not loyal to just anyone. You are loyal to but a few. But courage? That you have more than you even know. Gryffindor could be good for you, and you would be great with them…"_

And there was temptation. To go to Gryffindor, to be with Lily and Sirius, learn with them. But… would she truly be brave if she did not allow herself to reach her full potential?

Would she truly be brave if she hid behind her friends?

" _Well, I see that the lessons of both Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor shall stick with you. Ambition and cunning, indeed. Then, better be…"_

" **Slytherin!"**

* * *

Rus _was_ brave. She was, or she wouldn't have gone to Slytherin without the support of her friends.

Still, in the dark of the night, after having to fight to get her space and things respected, she didn't feel so brave.

The girls weren't too bad she supposed, but when they caught sight of her underthings… they had become _so mad_. — Mother hadn't manage to buy new ones to go with her new clothes, and she absolutely refused that Lily's mother spent any more money on her.

She was just not _worth it_.  
(but she didn't dare voice those thoughts aloud, for Rose Evans would scold her so hard her ears would still be ringing a day later).

(she wasn't blind, but the suspicion was better than be explained yet again how Rus' happiness was priceless when it _wasn't_ ).

Especially the one named Aurelia Carrow. She started screeching about how her parents told her that those were _bad_ traditions and that someone as dirt poor as Rus obviously was didn't even merit the avoidance most purebloods had.

Oh and there were a few words about how she was as "dirty as your blood and body, _mudblood_ ".

The whole scene escalated when Livia Crabbe started shouting at Aurelia and her besmirching of Traditions, and how her parents were obviously wrong.  
At this point, the whole dorm started shouting, and Rus couldn't help but feel a tightness in her chest that _wouldn't go away_.

Her breathing was speeding and she couldn't hear anything past the ringing in her ears and the Carrow's spiteful words. Everything felt _so much_ , too _much_. She couldn't do it, not now, just… she couldn't.

It took her a bit of time until she finally felt a hand on her back, rubbing circles and finally noticing her heavy and rapid breathing.

"Come on girl, that's it. Breathe in, breathe out. Again."

Rus took a look at the one trying to calm her through tear-filled eyes (and when did she start crying) only to be met face to face with the Girls' prefect.

She smiled at Rus, a bit pained but mostly reassuring.

"Alright I think that's enough excitement for tonight. How about you go shower and change into your nightclothes and I lay the ground rules to the rest of the dorm, hm? Come on."

And Rus went, on unsteady legs, but not before thanking loudly Livia Crabbe for standing up for her.  
The other girl looked startled, but the smile she sent in answer made her look radiant.

* * *

The next morning didn't start any better. Though not as loudly — but the poisonous glares Carrow continue to send her all morning made her feel uneasy.

At least, Rus had a companion in Livia Crabbe who was loudly and proudly supporting the Old Traditions.

"I'm part-Black you see", she told her when Rus asked at breakfast, "even if the Heir currently support the New Traditionalists, we Crabbe are proud to follow the Old Traditions under the rule of the Blacks. Anyway, it would have broke out, you know. Carrow's been itching for a fight since I met her on the train."

It didn't make Rus feel any better, but she was glad to have Livia-takes-no-bullshit Crabbe on her side.

"They're all following that new upstart revolutionary… what's his name already… oh right. Voldemort. Yeah so that one. Most Old Traditionals suspect that the guy isn't a pureblood, seeing as how he's supporting some Muggleborn bias, but nobody say it very loud since the last few that did were found dead in their bed", she whispered when everyone was distracted by the timetables' distribution.

She then motioned to a few older years.

"Not all of them though — if you have any problems with the girls in the dorm and I'm not here, you go to Narcissa Black, she's the Head Girl there. Remember her?" Rus nodded while examining the ethereal blonde who was the perfect picture of a Lady. "She's in the same case as you, so she might have a few pointers anyway. Her and her fiancé are both Followers of the Old Traditions, and they don't give a f— sorry, they don't care about others' opinions. Narcissa is a Black, so nobody dares crossing her."

Livia then pointed the girl next to Narcissa, a tall and dark-haired witch that Rus remembered well from the evening before.

"That's Andromeda Black. Rumor has it that she's involved with a Hufflepuff, but she's been cunning enough to keep things quiet. She's also the Girls' prefect, remember when she went into our dorm to calm things down? She's also _wicked_ with her wand, and she might teach you some tricks if you ask her. She already seems to like you, and she's my cousin. She might agree."

Livia also told Rus about all the little things about Hogwarts: the rivalries, the mysterious stairs, the different teachers, how to make sense of the layout of the place.

She taught her little spells, to tie her shoes and make sure her uniform was spotless — "We're _Slytherin_ Ruslana. You might not be the richest, but I'll be damned if I see you presented as less than the gem that you are."

Livia Crabbe was a godsent gift, and Rus couldn't thank her good star enough for her.

* * *

Friday came, and with it several confrontations with Carrow and her little crew. They all were careful enough not to start it anywhere near Livia's friends or numerous cousins — and if Rus wasn't deep enough in her problems, she'd totally start a rant on how everyone seemed to know each other here.

But with Friday came the potions class that was both Rus' all-time favourite, but also the only class Slytherins shared with Gryffindors.

While Livia wasn't all that happy to be dragged with Rus to see Sirius and Lily, she was at least graceful enough about it — "Well I guess that at least he's a _Black_. And your friend seems decent enough."

Rus didn't expect to fall nose to nose with the cutest boy she ever saw.

Wide brown eyes opened in surprise, brown skin and hair that had the apparent inability to stay flat and a startling tooth-gap.

Too bad he had to ruin it by opening his big mouth and put his metaphorical foot in it.

"Sooo… you're the boy-girl the slimy snakes have been crying about?"

Truthfully, while Rus would have loved to send a blistering list of curses to the arrogant Gryffindor, Lily was there first to start shouting at him and… surprisingly enough, Sirius went and punched the boy. Hard.

He was talking with him minutes earlier, but when the Gryffindor tried to attack Rus, Sirius didn't hesitate before hitting.

…Rus probably shouldn't flinch from Sirius after that, but she couldn't help it.

( _Father had the same dark look in his face whenever he was too deep in his bottles_.)

Sirius stopped where he was, and instead of hugging her, he put his hands in his pockets before smiling brightly at her.  
(his dark eyes were full of understanding).  
(neither noticed Lily suddenly startling or the worried look she shot at Sirius).

"So. How is Slytherin treating you?" asked Sirius to Rus, placing himself between her and the boy on the ground.

(James Potter was still a bit stunned by what happened. Also, _ouch_ ).

Rus smiled back, and gestured to Livia. "That's Livia Crabbe, she's been teaching me the ropes and how to survive in Slytherin."  
Sirius nodded at the girl, bowing his head in a greeting. "I'm grateful that you looked after my friend Heiress Crabbe."

Livia smiled at him only then.

"Finally someone with a bit of culture. Thank you for addressing me as my right title, Mr Black. And you are very welcome, Miss Snape is a darling treasure, and her wit and cunning place her as one of the most successful snake I've ever seen. Certainly better than all of our roommates."

Sirius only waved his hand a bit, missing Rus' wincing. "Nonetheless, I am glad for your patronage of my friend Heiress Crabbe. And I insist that you call me Sirius — my brother will come to Hogwarts next year and they'll soon be enough of us that you will confuse me by calling me Mr Black. Oh, that reminds me, Grandmother—"

He was cut off by James Potter's irate shout.

"Hey! What the hell man! I was just talking and you hit me?! Just like that?! And now you're making friends with a _Snake_?"

Sirius looked ready to murder the other Gryffindor on the spot, but Professor Slughorn arrived at this point, and while some called the man _weak_ in Slytherin's house, he was certainly enough used to hard-headed teenagers to put an end to the starting feud.

Though the glares the boys were sending each other only said it was a temporary truce.

Rus managed to snag Livia's attention once they were put in pairs and to work on the day's potions — the fact that there was no security measures of any kind didn't fill her with confidence over Slughorn's competence as a teacher.

"Mind telling me what exactly happened? I think I missed a bit of subtext there."

Livia sighed but nodded her head in agreement.

"Fine Ruslana, but you better make this potion perfect while I'm explaining to you. It'll take some time."

And so Rus started to neatly cut the roots just as her mother taught her while Livia explained to her who exactly James Potter was.

"He's the only heir of the Potter Family — and born late to the Lady of the House, which makes him a treasure in their eyes. He wasn't socialized _at all_ , which means he has no idea of the political clout he may or may not have, and was horribly spoiled by both his parents and _really_ Dorea Black should have known better than to do that. But anyway, that means that James Potter was never taught the Old Traditions, or little enough that it doesn't matter for him. Also, since he was never socialized he has little idea of who are his allies or not, and who he will offend by his opinions. Basically, and crudely put: he's a spoiled little shit who has no idea of what he's doing."

Rus let out a quiet giggle at the rude way her friend described James Potter, but had to agree with her.

* * *

Come Monday, Sirius and James Potter had apparently managed to put their feud at rest (though, not without two black eyes and a crooked nose for James and Sirius' deep scratches on his cheek).

And James went to Rus and apologized.

Deep bowing and all.

While Rus wouldn't exactly _forget_ , she could certainly forgive him since Sirius started to teach the rude boy the how-to's of the wizarding society, and Potter was making a real effort to learn.

Sirius didn't tell her how they managed to reconcile each other, just mentioning that late-night trips into the Forbidden Forest were a great bonding activity, and Rus should certainly do it too.

Rus let it wisely at that and resolved to _not_ put her nose in this.

(especially with those rumors of werewolves on the ground. True or not, Rus was safe inside the castle and certainly didn't want to have any problems of the furry kind.)

* * *

Weeks and days flew by, and suddenly Rus found herself being summoned to the infirmary by Nurse Pomfrey — Livia told her that Nurse was the proper term as Mrs Pomfrey was a nod to the muggleborns' manners, and Healer was not her formation.

Narcissa Black was the one to bring Rus to this meeting, all discrete but reassuring smiles at the younger snake and little tips on the "how-to" of make-up that Livia tried to teach her.

"Not to disparage Livia's skills of course," had said the Head Girl, "but matter of fact is that our faces will always work differently than hers — you won't have the same highlight or even the same foundation. It's easy enough, but she wouldn't have any idea, she wasn't taught. It's too bad her elder sister died before she could teach her, but Grindelwald wasn't discriminant in his killings."

Turned out, Nurse Pomfrey was asked by the ministry to do a check-up of all the First year coming at Hogwarts. She explained it easily enough, once she waved Narcissa away.

"Matter of fact dear is that the war in both the muggle world and the wizarding world made our population far less numerous. As such, the ministry wants to ensure the health of every child lucky or rich enough to get to Hogwarts," she waved her hand before adding dryly, "Of course, it's also a matter of re-election I believe."

The Nurse frowned after a moment, but soon she smiled at Rus.

"Well, not in perfect health but to be expected of a Muggleborn. You'll have to be inoculated with magical vaccines, and we'll do a schedule for it. Don't want you getting sick in the middle of the school year" she said as she patted Rus' cheeks.

"You have a few old fractures that will need resetting, but we can do that over a weekend, I'll just have to send words to your teachers so you won't have to worry about homework while on heavy dulling potions and what else— oh that's right! Did you have anybody tell you about body transitioning in the magical world?"

Rus blinked back at Nurse Pomfrey.

"Body trans— uh I'm not sure I heard right. I'm sorry Nurse Pomfrey."

She only smiled back.

"To be expected, I expect most muggleborn never hear of the fact that it's possible to feel another gender, never mind changing your body to fit it. That's what body transitioning mean, my dear. To make your body fits the way you want it to be. What changes will be up to you and your Mind Healer, but at the very least we can stop puberty for a few years to let you think about it."

Rus mulled over this quietly, before asking in a small voice.

"Um. I'm sorry Nurse Pomfrey, but what about this Mind Healer? I mean. I don't have much money, and certainly not enough to pay for—"

Nurse Pomfrey laughed at that, waving her hand lightly.

"Don't worry about that my dear. You remember what I mentioned about the ministry ensuring the health of every child attending Hogwarts?" she asked, and continued after seeing Rus' nod. "Well, in that particular case it's actually a national measures: every school, no matter what they make the children attending pay for their education, has the ministry pay to make sure the children are up-to-date with their vaccines, but also that urgences are taken care of _freely_ and that dental care is also free for them. But for Hogwarts children, the measure is larger and will stay all your life: every healthcare you might need is paid for by the ministry."

Nurse Pomfrey paused there before turning fully to Rus and continuing.

"In your case, that means that we'll together make an appointment with Saint-Mungo's Mind Healer — and don't you worry if the first one isn't to your liking, you might have as many appointments as you'd like — and then they'll schedule you for any operation or regular potions you'll have to take. Then, they'll call me at Hogwarts, and I'll make sure you take those potions or take care of your health."

Rus had her eyes wide-open in amazement and hope, almost tearing up at the thought that she wouldn't have to fight anymore.

"They… They can make me a real girl?"

Nurse Pomfrey shot her a very serious look at that before kneeling in front of Rus.

"My dear, let me tell you something: you are _already_ a real girl. If you want your body changed to accommodate your idea of what it _should_ be, we can certainly do that: but you _are_ a girl. No matter what."

Rus nodded timidly, her tears running freely on her cheeks.


	4. Ignore them, wear a smile instead

Narcissa can't remember a time where she wasn't careful about how she presented.

Not out of vanity — though it was certainly present as she was the fairest of her siblings.  
Rather, out of fear at what the Heir and his wife would say.

She had always been a girl, and her parents and her society always recognized her as such.  
Some had not been so lucky, but she was and she would be grateful for that.

But those who were alike as the Heir and his wife in their opinions would take offence of Narcissa's magic feeling differently about her body's form.

Mother explained it to her in these terms when Narcissa was still very young: magic and family magic reached out to Narcissa's core and made her a woman. But her body, formed early and well before Magics reached out to her, was not what one could expect of a woman.  
That's fine, after all a lot of women have different bodies.  
But Narcissa needed to be aware of that. Aware of what could happen to her should the Heir discover her different body.

And so, Narcissa learned to always be properly covered up. How to put enough make-up to look pretty, but not enough for it to be really noticeable. How to twist and braid her hair in coiffures that made her look fair, noticeable as a _girl_.

It worked, for the most part. Nobody outside of her close family noticed a thing was possibly amiss. Oh, of course Walburga had her qualms about her, but she looked innocent enough that she didn't suspect the truth.

( _Narcissa quite expected that if truth had come to light, Walburga would have killed her, and damn the consequences_ ).

This was how Narcissa learned to perceive the world and how to let herself be perceived.

Mother had explained things a bit more when she received her Hogwarts letter. It could be summed up as such: Narcissa, while being a part of the Black family and such inheriting a part of the Family Magics, wasn't Heir to it. However, she was Heir to the Oak family, inherited through her mother as the line became extinct a few decades ago.  
The Oak family, being noticeably a matrilineal line, had been waiting for a new heir that was worthy of their Family Magics, which is what happened with Narcissa. Her core, being deemed worthy of the Family Magics, made her Heir and in doing so molded it to be in line with the rule of Inheritance. As far as magic was concerned Narcissa was a woman.  
Her body, however, was already formed and it made it difficult to be changed, as the Family Magic still thought her body to be protected against all encroachment. Including attempts to change it.

Narcissa had always wondered why the Family Magics had not chosen either Andromeda or Bellatrix, but Mother told her that they both were Heir to other old extinct lines. Which neatly explained Bellatrix changing gender expressions, or Andromeda's rather fierce and protective attitude, and absolute loyalty to others she had just met, which were _not_ Black Family traits.

Not that it really mattered anyway. The only thing that mattered was that she would be able to give her daughter a name of her own — but Narcissa would always be a Black. No matter what.  
She could feel the wildness that flew through the Family Magics in her, heavy and light at the same time, with a heady sense of family.

The Blacks were an old family, and their Family Magic protected everyone, not only the main family or the Heir only as it happened in other family — goodness knew that the Crabbes had to start from scratch after the old Main Family got terminated in the War of the Roses.  
Not that they were the only ones. The statute of secrecy was instated for that express reason, to stop Magical Lines from dying out in petty muggle wars.

Or so her parents said. Narcissa hadn't a clue what that war had been about, only that it must have been _horrible_ because most of the Magical Lines died out in those years.  
She was however _proud_ to have been part of the only Great Family to have survived it.

She was taught many things, mainly in magical history and politics, and went with her mother to the many events she was invited to. Druella Rosier was _not_ someone you refused access to.

It was, however, announced to her before she left for Hogwarts that she would meet her betrothed there. Which left her in a bit of a conundrum as she _didn't even know she had a betrothed_.

* * *

Fortunately, she didn't panic as much as she thought she would over the announcement if only because she, Andromeda and Bellatrix managed to get in a nasty fight with supporters of the Dark Idiot as Bellatrix called them — well needless to say that Bellatrix was far too successful in riling them up.

Fortunately for them, the three Black siblings were the best at dueling, no matter that Narcissa _technically_ wasn't even supposed to know any magic.

(Bellatrix winked at their baby sister: "You're a Black, and we can't have you _lesser_ than the other First years, hmm? Go fetch Andromeda's wand and start practicing.")

Narcissa was feeling very smug, looking at the three sluggish-looking Fifth Years that thought she'd make an acceptable target while her elder siblings were otherwise occupied.  
Let no one say that Narcissa didn't feel like educating people; although, she was a Black through and through and her education was more of the _painful_ and embarrassing kind.

Non-lethal, however, as people couldn't learn from their mistakes if they were dead, according to Mother.  
Father had coughed a bit about Necromancy, but had been silenced fast by Mother's glare, which meant that Necromancy was a Forbidden subject, and one Narcissa had to research by herself.

 _(The fact that once she did do so, she didn't sleep for a week unless Andy or Trix were there notwithstanding, it went rather well)_

Narcissa glanced at Bellatrix and Andromeda, but both were done and _very_ smug about their accomplishments.  
She could already foresee bragging rights being claimed.

"Right!" said Bellatrix, clasping a hand over Narcissa's shoulder. "We're going to one of the compartment before a prefect makes a round and finds us savouring our well-deserved victory."

Andromeda only gave a sweet smile at both her siblings before searching through the downed idiots' pockets. Narcissa's quirked an eyebrow at her sister, but only got an even sweeter smile in answer.  
Well then.

Leaving Andromeda to her plotting, she followed Bellatrix to a somewhat cleared compartiment, only occupied by Bellatrix' best friend, Heir Flint.  
(his full name was escaping Narcissa at the moment, to be honest.)

He went to his feet the moment he saw the Black siblings entering, bowing low to them, before asking dryly to Bellatrix if he had to worry about being asked for an alibi.  
He got in answer a quirky smile from Bellatrix, and the dismissive wave of a hand.

"Don't worry, baby — Andromeda is taking care of this, and I honestly wouldn't ask her what she's doing. She's just as bad as a shark when she gets like that."

She then sat Narcissa on the bench, and patted her cheek.

"Also, as an aside absolutely not related to what just happened, my sister is awesome at magic and will probably be able to help Andromeda beat your ass into shape."

The Flint Heir raised an eyebrow at that but only snorted quietly, before saying, "To be expected, Trickster, she's a _Black_. You're all insane, but you're also insanely competent and scarily Slytherin, it shouldn't surprise _anyone_."

"As it damn right shouldn't."

* * *

There wasn't a surprise when Narcissa ended up in Slytherin — she was a _Black_ , and the proud sister of two Slytherins, and the daughter of two others.  
She was much more snake than anything else, and she had the fastest sorting she ever heard of.

At least in her year the people had _manners_ , and she couldn't say as much of the Fifth year that had been glaring at her all Feast.  
A true Slytherin knew that laying low and still in the grass got you your prey faster, but evidently it's no measure of _cunning_ that brought them into Slytherin. Nor _ambition_ , if they wanted so much to lay down at the feet of someone who thought he had power instead of seizing it for themselves.

Waste of breathe, those were.

She only flicked them a glance before ignoring them. She was good enough to not get ambushed, and to hold out until Bellatrix or Andromeda came for her, she _wouldn't_ worry about those louts.

Not even if the way her neck was feeling full of needles made her feel uneasy.

Still, in her year at least she wouldn't have to fight to maintain peak order, which was _good_. She was a Black, she had never thought she'd be anything but the best in her year, and those with her acknowledged it.  
Except for the Rosier boy, who thought that sharing blood with her Mother made him an equal to a _Black_.

He'd learn. And so would those upstart boot-lickers still glaring at her.  
She was the quiet snake in the grass. Lying still until her prey was near her and then no mercy was offered.

They'd rue the day they thought to be better than _her_.

* * *

Narcissa could see a Second year standing at the edge of her vision but didn't move to greet them — Andromeda and Bellatrix were both glaring at that one, and would get their motives out without her having to work for it.  
Networking was far more important than some Second year trying to speak to her. If she needed to know them, she'd already know them.

She started to talk with Vivianne Parkinson, of their timetables and some gossips Narcissa heard while walking down to breakfast — and really, it was more about possible talks of alliance.  
Vivianne was explaining to her about that new French family that had fled Grindelwald's war on the continent to find refuge in Britain when they were interrupted by Andromeda's light cough.

"My apologies sister, but this young man requested an introduction, and a moment alone with a chaperone. I decided to volunteer, as Bellatrix didn't have the time."

Narcissa's gaze fell on the retreating back of her elder sibling, who was in an animated discussion with Heir Flint, before nodding at Andromeda.

"Of course sister. I'll make myself available as soon as I have taken my leave from Lady Parkinson."

A few murmured words to Vivianne, and the amused wink she gave her, and she walked to the Great Hall's corridors, towards her sister and the Second year that had managed to gain audience from her elder siblings.

Narcissa had a foreboding feeling, but tried to ignore it.

She bowed her head slightly to the Second year, analyzing his poise — definitely a Noble family, though foreign if his hair and facial features were any indication — and answering bow. A deeper one, as expected as one not from House Black, but not as deep as most.

She could feel her eyebrows crinkle lightly and sent an inquiring glance to her sister.

"Sister, would you mind introducing us?"

Andromeda gave her a sweet smile, as if delecting herself from something.

"Of course sister. This young man is Heir Lucius of House Malfoy from France's court. He asked me to introduce me to you and chaperone his meeting with you. Heir Malfoy, as requested, this is my sister Lady Narcissa of House Black. I'll now let you talk in peace, and walk a few footsteps behind you."

She curtsied to the two of them, before doing as she said. Narcissa followed her with her eyes, worried, but before she could ask anything, she was presented an arm.  
Or, to be more exact, Heir Malfoy presented his arm to her in order to escort her.

"My Lady, if you'll permit me, I'll escort you to your classroom. You have Transfiguration this morning, if I'm not mistaken?"

Narcissa took both the offered arm and the conversation starter.

"That is very kind of you, Heir Malfoy. I am deeply grateful for your company this morning, on my way to Transfiguration. May I inquire after your reasons for seeking my company?"

Lucius gave her a smile, a nervous one but it looked sweet enough that Narcissa felt like overlooking the failing mask of the older Slytherin.

"You may, indeed. I… I do not know if you were informed of your betrothal, my Lady?"

Narcissa felt like a bucket of cold water had somehow found its way through her robes. _Nobody_ should know of that. No one. How… How did he know?

"I— that is, yes I was informed of my betrothal Heir Malfoy. I was not however told the name of my betrothed. Would— would you be so kind as to tell me their name?"

Heir Malfoy turned a rather fetching shade of red, all over his cheeks and ears, and started stammering, before catching himself, taking a deep breathe and starting to talk again.

"I… that is. I am. I am your betrothed my Lady."

Narcissa let the arm fall from hers, and turned round eyes to Heir Malfoy, feeling both shocked and angry.

"You _are_?"

He nodded, still blushing but meeting her eyes squarely.

"I am. And you have my… my deepest apologies for not contacting you earlier — I received an owl from my Lord father just this morning, telling me that I was betrothed and the name of my betrothed… yours."

He looked truly remorseful, and it made her heart twinge, but fury was stronger than whatever feelings of pity he could invoke in her.

"If you were _truly_ sorry, you would have contacted me before the contract obligated you to do so. You would have written down your request to meet me rather than pressuring my siblings in _allowing you to meet me_. You should have known better."

On these words, she turned her heels and stalked to the Transfiguration classroom, fury practically coming off her in waves.

Behind her, a still Lucius Malfoy and a heavily smirking Andromeda stood.

* * *

Of course, Narcissa didn't feel _good_ about snapping at Heir Malfoy – if anything, the longer she thought about it, the more ashamed she felt. The all-compassing anger she felt was not actually related to Heir Malfoy's actions; but rather, it was directed to her parents and Lord Malfoy for not informing her.  
For letting her believe she'd be able to find her own way in the world without their meddling.

Oh, not that she wasn't angry at Heir Malfoy for good reasons: pressuring her siblings into letting them meet without starting the courtship via _letters_ as was expected was an inexcusable faux-pas. But most of her anger wasn't at Heir Malfoy.  
Mother had warned her that the Oak family temperament would come out at the worst moment, and it readily appeared that it was so.

Oaks were known for their fiery temper, and for their love of their own freedom, and their dedication to make happen their dreams. In that, at least, Narcissa acknowledged that she was similar to them.

And of all the time for this to come out! Well, at least her betrothed would be aware of her temperament, and she wouldn't have to hide it from him under layers of social graces and courtesies.

Not that it was a secret now: even if it had been in the beginning, this was _Hogwarts_ , and nothing was meant to be kept quiet, which meant that most of the castle was by now aware of her summary disposal of her betrothed (which she felt very ashamed about), and bestowed her the title of Slytherin Ice Queen, which was the only thing Narcissa felt good about from this incident.

The fact that both her parents sent her letters, apparently aware of what happened, and not to scold her, only to say that she was well within her rights to have snapped so at the young man.

Though Mother had included that she should be less wroth at him, considering that he was _French_ , and as so was brought up with French courtly manners which departed in various points from the English court manners.

Narcissa would never admit to it, but she did scour her elder siblings' books to find out the truth of it, which made her only feel more ashamed.  
Not ashamed enough to go and excuse herself to Heir Malfoy, she was a _Black_ , and no matter what, Black bowed to no one.

Not even their betrothed.

* * *

Only a week after the incident, and a week spent by Narcissa wallowing in guilt on the inside, and a pretentious Horned owl presented itself to her one morning, an elegant letter attached to its leg.  
Having some idea of _who_ sent the gorgeous owl, she thanked it by letting it eat her bacon, and opened the letter with trembling fingers.

What she saw inside made her heart flutter.

Heir Malfoy was apologizing for his lapse in manners: while, indeed, French courtly manners were _not_ the same as English', he should have been better and greeted her as was expected, with more respect to her culture.  
In his letter, he also added the hope that she would forgive him, and that she would be amenable to correspond with him on various matters: Heir Malfoy wanted to know her.

' _I only hope that we may be able to work together in order to make our union a successful and peaceful one. I would rather be with a friend than with an enemy in my life.'_

Bringing up her eyes, she met Heir Malfoy's curious and kind eyes, and nodded slightly to him, quirking a small and genuine smile.  
The answering grin she got was _far_ too cute, and she blushed faintly before turning and bringing Lady Parkinson and Heir Nott into the latest gossip.

* * *

Years passed, and with them thousands of letters, from Narcissa and from Lucius.  
(she was still giddy to be able to call him that. Her mother would have her head for such inappropriate language with her betrothed, but to hell with that! She would be living her life with a dear friend, and would name him as such)

Learning about each other, and from each other had been an experience that Narcissa didn't regret — and neither did Lucius if his request in one of his latest letter to continue their correspondence once he had graduated was any indication.

Narcissa made it to Prefect as a Fifth year — as to be expected, she was not only a good student but also an excellent mentor and did assist Andromeda in her duties as a Prefect two years ago when she got named at the post.  
Bellatrix, for their part, had gone with Heir Flint (and Narcissa couldn't for the life of her remember his name, and it would be _horribly_ rude to ask him at this point) on a road-trip across Europe, most specifically Greece and its ruins.

Bellatrix had hope to rediscover clues about the old Minoans, the people of Santorini, and their civilization, but mostly was excited to meet Gorgons and Sphinx.

Narcissa couldn't even pretend to _understand_ what her sibling was doing most of the time.

"'Cissa! The letters from school arrived!"

She lifted her head from Lucius' last letter at Andromeda shout. Before answering, she took the time to fold and stow the letter with the others she had kept from the years before.  
Running down the stairs got her only an eye-roll from Andromeda, as apparently both their parents were absent.

(They had been discreet about the issue, but Narcissa had the sinking feeling it was about the Heir's son.)

(Little Sirius was a joy and a riot, and rumor had it that Arcturus was looking to bypass Orion entirely and to name Sirius Heir Black.)

She lifted an eyebrow at Andromeda, and taking her letter before her sister could open it in front of her eyes.  
(which was how Narcissa had learned that she was named Fifth year Prefect.)

Weighting the letter, she was surprised to feel it heavier than usual, just as heavy as… as when she received the Prefect letter.  
Decided to clear it up before anxious thoughts could make themselves known, she ripped open the thick envelope and ended with a badge and the usual letter of announcement.

Disbelieving she turned to Andromeda only to be met by a gleeful shout:

"I _knew_ it! My baby sister made Head Girl in her Sixth year, I'm so _proud_!"

And the warm glow Narcissa felt only grew.  
Yes, she was happy, and glad for it.

* * *

Narcissa was a young woman on the mission, on the night of the Sorting. First of all, Family matters meant that she had to keep an eagle's eye on Heir Black — well Sirius that is — and make sure he wasn't bothered by other Purebloods that might want to climb the social ladder by buttering up the new Heir.  
But there were also her duties of being both a Prefect and Head Girl, and that meant keeping a careful eye on the First Year in her house and what enmity or alliances they would fell in.

At her side, Vivianne was having a field day discussing pureblood gossip with the now-cowed Rosier, and Narcissa also kept an ear out for any interesting bit she might want to know.

Sirius being sorted in Gryffindor wasn't _surprising_ , no matter what others may say. Blacks were cunning, yes, but the Heir had a special brand of recklessness and foolhardiness that made it much more easier to see him as a Gryffindor, no matter how cunning he might be.  
And standing up to his mother, which Narcissa knew he did on a _regular_ basis, took great courage.

She only applauded as was expected of her, and winked easily at Sirius who looked at her so _very lost_ — and maybe, maybe he didn't consider this a possibility? No matter, she'd support him through this, they were _Family_.

Narcissa also kept a careful eye on the other two girls that were talking with Sirius — both looked spooked by the Sorting Hat, so she'd go on a wild guess and assume they were either Muggleborn or Muggle-raised.  
She applauded politely when _Evans, Lily_ got sorted in Gryffindor, inwardly glad Sirius would have a chance at having a friend in the Lion's den, and couldn't help but be surprised when _Snape, Ruslana_ ended in Slytherin, sitting next to Heir Crabbe.

She couldn't help but feel bad for the young Snape, and didn't know exactly _why_ — oh. Well. She shoot a look at the young girl to warn Andromeda about potential problems in that dorm.  
All the while, she took great pain in hiding her distress and keep her composure through the Feast, not looking again at the girl for fear of feeling it again.

 _That girl had only half of her Family Magics._


End file.
